


The Hibernating Heart.

by BarPurple



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Character Study, Gen, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Light Angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-05
Updated: 2014-03-05
Packaged: 2018-01-14 17:02:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 691
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1274254
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BarPurple/pseuds/BarPurple
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A few thoughts on the much debated heart of Sherlock Holmes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Hibernating Heart.

They say he hasn’t got a heart and is incapable of love. It’s a fiction he’s happy to maintain. The blatant disregard towards the social niceties; the blunt hurtful manner; the sneering indifference to normal human emotion are all plates in his carefully constructed armour. These elements slot into place around his superior intelligence and inclination towards the morbid, dark elements of existence. Natural and contrived traits that form the whole package that allows him keep the world at arm’s length; alone and protected.

People wonder and whisper as to why he is this way. The jealous and mean speculate that he is broken either by some defect of birth, or some result of his drug addict past. The kinder souls around him trouble themselves with thoughts of past trauma, or abuse. The truth is, as is often the case, less dramatic than the fictions.

In actual fact he does have a heart and is so very capable of love. There was no psychosis caused by nature, or his cocaine habit and no abuse in his past. There’s no harsh sudden moment in his past that he can point to saying this is why. It was a series of gradual and mundane events that caused him to forge his armour.

From an early age he was cocooned in the warmth of a loving family. Wrapped in this safety he loved with all his heart and was loved in return. At a later than usual age he entered the wider world. For the first time he was exposed to the hundreds of minor everyday hurts the world has to offer. The snide remarks; the name calling and the casual pushing and pummelling that is part of children’s play. He was unprepared for such things and every one cut at him. For the first time he found that his heart could hurt.

He observed the new world around him and saw these things were normal. The world would keep hurting him. Lashing out like a wounded animal only brought retaliation and deeper pain. Mimicking his peers and trying to be normal didn’t work; his knowledge and talents would burst through at times and provoked anger or fear in people who had believed him to be one of them. Finally he took the solution he was offered. If the world named him Freak then that’s what he would be. He embraced the traits that set him apart and reinforced them with new ones he researched. He became a high functioning sociopath.

Armour in place he could move in a world he found to be harsh and filled with pain. In the dark small hours of the night he would admit to himself that his heart was craving the love he had shut out. That absence corroded his sleep and peace of mind. Balancing on the knife edge between depression and insanity he fell into the arms of drug induced bliss. On the far side of rehab he found a new edge to dance precariously along. In the world of police work, puzzles and pathology labs he found a place for himself. His talents were praised, somewhat grudgingly and his armour was mostly tolerated as the quirk of genius. His fiercely protected heart slumbered in uneasy contentment dreaming of the possibility of opening to the world again and loving.

_Bit different from my day._

Sherlock’s heart quietly woke from its enforced hibernation and scented the air.

_That was amazing._

Sherlock’s heart gave fluttering twitch at the possibility.

_That was the most ridiculous thing I've ever done._

Sherlock’s heart expanded and luxuriated in the surge of long suppressed feeling.

_We can’t giggle. We’re at a crime scene._

Unbeknownst to Sherlock his heart had found a guide, a conductor into the world who bathed it in the light of love returned. Sherlock’s heart was not foolish. It would not throw away years of protection by opening itself to all and sundry, but now it was free again it would love deeply and love well.

It would only take a few short years for Sherlock and his heart to fully understand why they call it falling in love.

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first time I have ever shared a fanfic with the world. Please let me know if I have mis-tagged this, or done anything else that I can correct. Many thanks for your reading time and for any comments you leave.


End file.
